


Here There Be Dragons

by Pandelion



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Multi, dragon!Athelstan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandelion/pseuds/Pandelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all omens are bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here There Be Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> I...have no excuse. Enjoy?

Ragnar notes how the priests do not interact with Athelstan unless they have to, on the voyage back to Kattegat. The priest sits with his back against the mast and his lips move with what Ragnar assumes are prayers to his dead god. The others huddle to the side and mutter amongst themselves, shivering from cold and fear.

It is not much different from any other voyage, really, when they had treasure and slaves to bring home. The slaves of other raids had acted much the same.

But Athelstan...

The priest is afraid, yes, that much is clear in his eyes when he looks at Ragnar, at Rollo or the others. But his hands are steady and he does not seem to much mind the cold or wet, unlike his companions who tremble with every gust of wind or splash of seawater. It is a curious thing and Ragnar watches the priest as often as he can, between his turns at the oars and sleeping and determining if they are still on course.

And when he tips the dead priest over the side of the longboat and comes to lean against the mast near Athelstan, the other priests stare in horror and shake where they sit. But Athelstan keeps his eyes fixed on where the other priest had disappeared over the side and murmurs a prayer, voice steady, if sorrowful.

Curious.

****

It's a gamble, asking for the priest as his one piece, but Ragnar holds Earl Haraldson's eyes with his own and does not laugh with the others. He is serious.

The Earl sobers quickly, shrewd eyes weighing Ragnar and the priest. "Granted," he says shortly and Ragnar carefully does not show his relief.

He takes hold of the rope, pulls Athelstan after him as the others line up to choose their piece of treasure. Rollo catches up with them outside, a satchel over his shoulder.

"Why did you do that?" his brother calls. "Why did you give everything away so easily? You wasted our time. I never should have believed in you."

There is some truth in Rollo's words, but Ragnar is still angered. "He was looking for an excuse to kill us," he says, rounding on Rollo, one hand holding his brother's shoulder. "Why would we go to Valhalla, after such miserable and pointless deaths? Brother, believe me. This is not the end. It is just the beginning." His anger drains away as quickly as it came and he is left with just the determination to make Rollo see.

Rollo looks at him for a moment, then breaks away. He looks around, then comes back, opening his satchel for Ragnar to see inside. "Well, at least we didn't give everything away so easily."

"That's your one thing?" Ragnar asks, looking at the large gold piece sitting on a bed of coins.

"How should he ever find out?"

"You idiot!" Ragnar snarls, shoving Rollo against a building. "Would Odin expect us to do anything so stupid?"

"You have your Odin," Rollo says, "and I have mine."

And really, that is the difference between them. They do not see the same things in the same way. Ragnar sighs, lets his head drop. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Athelstan, standing to one side and watching. "Why don't you go get drunk?" he says finally, patting Rollo's chest. "Spend all this on whores. Make sure the Earl never finds out you stole from him."

Turning, he leads Athelstan away, leaving Rollo to pick up his stolen treasure and do with it what he will. The priest follows easy enough, but his eyes are dark when he looks at Ragnar.

****

"Why didn't you take any of the gold?" Athelstan asks after they leave Kattegat. Ragnar glances at him, then returns to watching his footing.

"I did not make that journey to bring treasure back for myself," Ragnar says. "I was looking for knowledge."

"Did you find it?"

Ragnar stops and turns to look at Athelstan, this priest who, despite looking so soft and weak, survived the voyage to Kattegat and has kept up without complaint over terrain much harsher than what Ragnar had seen in England. He does not seem to even be breathing as hard as Ragnar would expect, given they have been climbing uphill for a while.

"I did," he says after a moment. "And more."

****

Bjorn does not like Athelstan, but Ragnar had not expected his family to love the priest. Just because he himself had been intrigued by the man does not mean Lagertha or the children will see the same.

"He's weird," Bjorn says over dinner the second night. Athelstan had gone to bed early, claiming he wasn't feeling well. "His head feels weird and his hair is weird and he doesn't speak right."

"I think he's nice," Gyda says.

"He's not nice," Bjorn protests, shoving at Gyda.

She shoves right back and Ragnar smiles even as Lagertha frowns. He has strong children.

"He's nice to me," Gyda tells Bjorn. "He likes to listen to the stories."

"What stories are you telling him?" Ragnar asks Gyda, curious.

"The old ones," Gyda says promptly. "The ones you and mother tell us. About the gods and the world. He likes the ones about the dragons the best."

"Does he, now?" Ragnar says, amused. Bjorn interrupts then, with something about one of the dogs, and Ragnar forgets the conversation.

****

“Athelstan.”

For a moment, Ragnar thinks the priest did not hear him, so he says it again. Athelstan looks up from his book, startled.

“We want to ask you something,” Ragnar says and looks to Lagertha. He'd suggested it, but she had wanted to be the one to offer.

“Come and join us…priest,” she says and Ragnar loves her, he truly does. His beautiful, strong shield-maiden.

Athelstan stares, clearly overwhelmed.

“Don’t you want to? You’ll enjoy it,” Ragnar promises. He watches Athelstan swallow, knows that he made the right call in offering this, even if the priest is too hesitant to take it.

“I am a monk,” Athelstan manages after a moment. “I’ve taken vows of celibacy. I cannot touch a woman.” He glances at Lagertha, at Ragnar, then away. “I never have.”

Grinning, because this is something he can use, Ragnar throws himself down next to Athelstan and looks up at Lagertha, admiring the view. She smiles and turns, drags her fingers up her thigh where the blanket doesn't cover her smooth skin. “Wouldn’t you like to?” he asks Athelstan.

“It is a sin,” Athelstan says. Ragnar tilts his head to look at him.

“Who would know?” Ragnar whispers and Athelstan looks from him to Lagertha and back again, flushed and wanting, but clearly unable to let himself want.

“God would know.” And he starts to recite some prayer in that other language of his. Ragnar sighs. Clearly the priest will not be swayed tonight. He pushes himself off the floor and rejoins Lagertha. 

“Go to sleep, then, with your god,” Lagertha says as they turn to go back to bed.The soft litany of Athelstan's words falter, then pick up again and they follow Ragnar and Lagertha into sleep.

****

"Tell me about your home," he tells Athelstan. The priest looks up in surprise. "I want to know about your god and your customs."

"Oh. Well, we believe in just one God that rules over everything."

"Sounds busy," Ragnar says, settling himself down. "Surely he does not have time to spend on looking after everything."

"He does," Athelstan insists. "He is all-powerful and all-knowing."

"He would have to be," Ragnar says, grinning. "And you are his priest?"

Athelstan nods. "Yes, I am. My brothers and I spend our time praying and reading the word of God, so that we might know His plan better."

"We have those who do the same, asking questions of the gods and listening for their answers. They are called to their role by the gods. How did you become a priest for your god?"

For a long moment, he does not think Athelstan will reply. Athelstan's eyes go dark and Ragnar would swear they flashed gold for an instant. The priest's hands clutch at his clothes, knuckles white.

"I was promised to the priory as a infant," Athelstan says finally, voice soft. "My mother died giving birth to me and my father was..." He swallowed and did not finish the sentence. "There were omens. The bishop declared that I would spend my life in service to God to make up for the sin I carried. So I have lived at the monastery since."

"You do not seem like a bad man to me," Ragnar points out. Athelstan blinks and looks at him.

"I have tried hard not to be a bad man," he says. "But some days I fear that I will never be forgiven this curse."

"A curse?" Ragnar leans forward, intrigued. He is familiar with the curses of his people, of his gods. That the Saxons also have curses is interesting. "What sort of curse?"

"A terrible curse." Athelstan looks away, towards the sea though he cannot see it from the inside of the house.

Ragnar wants to ask more, but Lagertha comes in, then, eyes dark and lips curved, and he is lost to her.

****

Athelstan speaks of his god less and less as the days pass. He spends his time helping on the farm and standing down at the shore, looking out across the water. Ragnar thinks that maybe he's missing his home, back in England.

A week after the mention of a curse, Ragnar finds Athelstan at the waterside again. He has a knife and seems to be in the process of shaving his head, Scraping away the new growth. As Ragnar watches, unnoticed, Athelstan flinches. Red flows down the side of Athelstan's face and a drop falls to the water.

The hissing sound and tendril of steam is unexpected and Ragnar frowns. Athelstan doesn't seem to notice, continuing to scrape with the knife and ignoring the blood that wells up.

Another two drops fall and the same thing happens. Ragnar's curiosity takes hold of him and he steps forward, his boots loud on the stones. Athelstan startles at the noise, his whole body jerking as he looks at Ragnar.

"What are you doing, priest?" Ragnar calls.

Athelstan's mouth opens, but no sound comes out for a moment. "I...I am shaving my head," he says, voice shaky. His fingers wipe at the blood that is streaked across the side of his face, smearing it further. Ragnar watches him reach for the water, only to change his mind and use his tunic to clean his hand.

Curious.

"Surely you cannot do a very good job on your own?" he asks, coming closer. "You cannot see the top of your own head, after all."

"I manage well enough," Athelstan says. His grip on the knife is tight and he reminds Ragnar of an animal, scared and cornered and willing to fight to get free again. Ragnar holds up his hands and smiles.

"Very well. I will leave you to it, then. Though, I would be more careful with that knife; head wounds bleed a lot," he says.

Athelstan nods. "I will keep that in mind."

****

The second raid is as successful as the first, though not as cleanly, and they return with more treasure. Almost as good as the thrill of success is seeing Athelstan, Bjorn and Gyda waiting among those at the dock.

His imprisonment for killing Knut is unfortunate, but he does not lose faith that the gods have a great future in store for him. A great future does not happen with his head severed from his body, after all. Lagertha speaks up at the trial and then Rollo steps forward with testimony and the lies build.

"Yes, I was there," Rollo says. "I saw everything."

"So," Haraldson says. "Who killed my brother?"

Rollo hesitates a moment, looks at Ragnar. Ragnar can't read the expression on Rollo's face, can't tell if his words will be Ragnar's own lies or some other lie fed to him by Haraldson.

"Ragnar Lothbrok killed him."

"In cold blood?" the Earl asks.

Ragnar watches Rollo take a deep breath. "No, Lord. For a good reason. What Ragnar Lothrbok has sworn is true. Your half-brother was caught raping a Saxon woman, then he attempted to rape Ragnar's lawful wife, Lagertha, a shield maiden. So, unfortunately, you cannot punish him."

Ragnar can't help the smile. "So, who has a key?" he asks, lifting his chained hands.

A man steps forward to unlock the chains and Gyda runs to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He bends to hug her back, then straightens up to wrap an arm around Lagertha and reach out to ruffle Bjorn's hair.

Athelstan hangs back, clearly uncomfortable, but he manages a smile when Ragnar looks at him. "I am glad you are not dead," he says and Ragnar grins.

"Aye. So am I."

****

When the men attack that night, Ragnar forgets to watch for Athelstan. The women pull Bjorn and Gyda out of harm's way, but it's not until the fighting has stopped that Ragnar thinks of the priest.

He finds him outside, bloodied and huddled against a wall. Nearby, two men lie on the ground unmoving and Ragnar goes to them. Dead. Probably killed by the slashes he can see across their throats. Dismissing them, Ragnar turns to Athelstan, intent on checking for any wounds. Surely at least some of the blood is his own

Athelstan is warm to the touch and lets Ragnar move him without fuss. There are no wounds that Ragnar can see, though, nor any tears in Athelstan's clothes. His gaze settles on the bare patch on Athelstan's head and he frowns. Perhaps it is the low light, but he can see no scab or scar on the skin, though he remembers clearly that Athelstan had cut himself while shaving the area not so long ago.

Taking a breath, he dismisses the thought and instead reaches to tilt Athelstan's head up. "Look at me," he says. "Athelstan, look at me."

It takes a long moment, but finally, Athelstan's eyes lift to meet his. They are light, nearly gold, with fire reflected in them. There are torches nearby, Ragnar thinks, that would cause this.

"You are unhurt?" he asks slowly. The gold and fire fade into Athelstan's normal gray-brown and the priest blinks.

"Yes," he answers, voice hoarse. "I--I am fine. They did not--I am unhurt."

Ragnar looks at the two bodies, so close to Athelstan, who is covered in blood not his own. "Did you kill them?"

Athelstan follows his gaze and Ragnar looks at him in time to see his eyes flash with gold and fire. "Y--yes," Athelstan says, sounding like he can't quite believe it himself. "I did."

That makes Ragnar wonder. Athelstan would have needed a blade to inflict such injuries, but there is none near to him and the men's weapons are still in their hands or on their belts.

Curious.

****

Ragnar spends three days up on the hill. Drinking little, eating less. He stares out across the water, past his home, past the mountains, searching for an answer.

This hadn't started as a way to overthrow the Earl, but it has blown way past what Ragnar had intended. He is locked in a struggle for power with the Earl, now, and there is only way for this to end.

Only death will end this.

And Haraldson changes too slowly. He will suffocate their people in his stubborness, he will starve them with his hesitance. They grow weak and stagnant under his rule.

Truly, Ragnar had no true ambitions to be Earl, but that is what it has come to. In order for their people to thrive, Haraldson must be removed, like a thorn from a festering wound. Ragnar is the only one capable of doing this, now, and killing Haraldson would make Ragnar Earl.

So, he sits and he looks and he listens for the gods, prays for a sign, for an answer.

Ragnar Lothbrok will kill Earl Haraldson. All that remains is the how and the when.

****

He comes down from the hill on the evening of the fourth day and goes straight to his home. Gyda and Bjorn run to him and he hugs them close, presses his lips to their heads. Lagertha waits at the doorway and he goes to her, lets her pull him close, and relaxes into the strength of her arms.

His shield-maiden, his strong children.  His--

Ragnar pulls back, just enough to ask, "Where is Athelstan?"

Lagertha's lips flatten and she scowls. Ragnar is nearly distracted by how pretty she is when she is angry, but then she says, "He is down by the water. Again."

"He is often by the water," Ragnar says, confused as to why this is suddenly a matter of displeasure for his wife. Lagertha pulls away, leaning on the wall.

"While you were gone, he has spent every waking hour down there," Lagertha says. "He only comes back for supper and to sleep. Nothing I say will change his mind and he pays no attention to the farm or the children. I don't know what he is doing, but it is secretive and I do not like it."

"I will speak with him," Ragnar promises. Lagertha's presses her lips together and crosses her arms, but does not say anything more. Ragnar turns and makes his way down to the water.

He finds Athelstan in the same place as before, though this time the priest is knee deep in the water and there is no knife in sight. Ragnar pauses and watches for a moment.

Athelstan takes a deep breath and bends down to put his hands in the water. For a moment, he is still, then he starts to tremble violently. Ragnar almost starts forward, but just as he starts to move, Athelstan stops shaking and straightens up.

Even from where Ragnar is standing, he can see that something is different. Athelstan's skin now gleams like gold in the sun and his hands are misshapen, too long and bent oddly.

Ragnar steps closer, mindful this time of the loose stones under his feet. He is a few steps from Athelstan when he says the priest's name.

Athelstan whirls around, hands raised and eyes wide, and for a moment, he and Ragnar just stare at each other.

In broad daylight, it's hard to dismiss the fiery gold eyes as a trick of the light. The new gleam of Athelstan's skin becomes many tiny scales, like a snake or a fish. Athelstan's hands are bent into claws and his fingernails are long and sharp, like an eagle's talons.

Then Athelstan trembles and the changes are gone, leaving just the man that Ragnar thought he knew. He looks at Athelstan, at the pale hands and the dark, curly hair, at the eyes that are dark and afraid, but still steady.

"What are you?"

****

Lagertha scowls. "Show me," she demands.

Athelstan looks at Ragnar. "I don't know if--"

"Show me," she insists. Ragnar holds his hands up.

"I am not getting in the middle of this," he says. Athelstan frowns and opens his mouth to protest, but Lagertha grabs his tunic and pulls him close.

"Show me or I will kill you and feed you to the dogs," she threatens. Athelstan stares at her.

"I'd show her," Ragnar advises.

"I--very well," Athelstan says. Lagertha holds onto him for a moment longer, then pushes him away. Athelstan takes a deep breath. "I've never done this out of the water," he warns. "Not intentionally."

"Just do it," Lagertha tells him. Athelstan nods.

He bows his head and starts to shake, just like he had before. Lagertha's eyes go wide, but Ragnar reaches out to put a hand on her arm. "Wait," he says. She gives him a dubious look, but settles.

It is over in a moment and Athelstan looks up slowly, as if afraid of their reaction. Again, he is covered in tiny scales that glint in the light, and his eyes capture the fire in rings of gold. He holds out a hand, palm up and fingers curled in.

Slowly, Lagertha steps forward and takes his hand, runs her fingers over the scales and down the curve of a claw. "Dragon," she says finally, looking up at Athelstan's eyes. "You are a dragon."

"Half of one, yes," Athelstan says and now Ragnar sees that his teeth have changed, as well. There are fangs and sharp teeth made for ripping and tearing in place of blunt human ones. "My mother was human."

"The curse," Ragnar says, understanding. Athelstan looks at him.

"Yes. They could not kill me and the bishop thought that perhaps if I were raised by the monks at Lindisfarne, I could still be saved, perhaps even cured."

"But you are clearly not cured," Lagertha says, releasing Athelstan's hand. "Have the gods sent you here? Are you come to bring death and destruction?"

"I do not know about your gods," Athelstan says. "But I am starting to think I was brought here for a reason, yes." Lagertha reaches for weapon, but Athelstan holds up a hand. "Not to bring death and destruction on you, though," he says quickly.

He looks at Ragnar. "I think I am here to help you," he says.

****

"You bring me a bad omen, Ragnar Lothbrok," the ancient one says as Ragnar and Athelstan duck into his hut.

"For myself or for Earl Haraldson? Ragnar asks as he settles on the ground. Athelstan follows suit, sitting just behind Ragnar and to the side.

The seer laughs, a cracked, unnerving sound. "Finally, you are asking the right questions," he says. "Come here, little omen, give me your hand." He holds a hand out, fingers gnarled with age. Ragnar looks at Athelstan and jerks his head.

"Go on."

Slowly, Athelstan shuffles forward and puts his hand in the ancient one's hand. The seer runs his thumb over Athelstan's palm. "Hmm, yes. You have come a long way, little omen. Show me."

Athelstan looks at Ragnar, who nods. The shaking is less this time and Ragnar watches Athelstan's hand change from pale fingers to scaled claws. The seer doesn't so much as twitch at the change.

"Ahhh. You are a powerful omen, indeed," the ancient one sighs. He lets go of Athelstan's hand and reaches for his castings. The bits of wood and bone and other things rattle onto the low table and the seer stares sightlessly at them. "Ask me."

"Do the gods favor me?" Ragnar asks. The seer smiles.

"Their favor rests upon you, yes."

"Is this my purpose?" Athelstan asks suddenly. Ragnar looks at him, but the see just passes his hands over the casting and nods slowly.

"You have a purpose here, yes. You will sit at Ragnar Lothbrok's left hand and be an omen to his enemies and friends alike. Your fate is twined with his, in life and in death you will follow where he goes."

Athelstan nods and Ragnar can't read his fiery gold eyes, but he looks satisfied with the answer he's received. The seer turns to Ragnar again.

"Watch for the raven in the midday sun," he says. "And may the gods guide your hands true."

"Thank you, ancient one," Ragnar says. He goes to stand, thinking the seer will offer his hand again, but the seer turns to Athelstan.

"If you would, little omen," he says, holding his hand out again. Ragnar thinks of how to explain this to Athelstan, but the dragon doesn't hesitate. He drags his thumb across the palm of his oher hand, the claw slicing easily through scale and flesh alike. Ragnar thinks of the slashes in those men's throats, the ones that looked like they had been caused by a blade.

Blood wells up and Athelstan wraps his hand around the seers, palm to palm and claws resting gently on skin. When he lifts his hand, the blood is gone and his palm is whole again. The seer nods and smiles.

"My thanks, little omen."

As they leave the seer's home, Athelstan fades back into human, so that by the time they reach sunlight, there is nothing of the dragon about him.

Ragnar claps Athelstan on the shoulder and turns to go home. Athelstan's footsteps are close behind his and Ragnar smiles to himself. If the gods' favor holds, Athelstan will be following him much further than Kattegat.

****

It's scarcely three days since they went to Kattegat to see the seer when a man rides onto the farm to inform Ragnar that Earl Haraldson wants to speak to him. Ragnar tells the man he will go, then goes to find Athelstan.

As usual, the priest is down by the water. He has been practicing his transformation, wanting to accomplish it quickly and without thought. Ragnar thinks he's made much progress, but Athelstan is frustrated.

"Athelstan!" Ragnar calls, striding across the rocks to where Athelstan is standing just beyond the reach of the water. "We are called to Kattegat."

Athelstan looks up, no longer so easily startled. "So soon?" he asks.

"I think Haraldson intends to keep us off balance," Ragnar says. "Come back to the house. We need to prepare."

****

The walk to Kattegat seems both longer and shorter than it has been before. The children are left in the care of another woman as Lagertha joins Ragnar and Athelstan. They sleep that night under the stars, pressed close against the chill, and Lagertha laughs when Athelstan curls against Ragnar's other side.

"You will not touch a woman because of your vows, but there is nothing against you touching my husband, priest?" she asks, propped up on one arm. Ragnar looks from her to Athelstan and back, content to have them both within reach. Athelstan flushes.

"I'm not--it's not--I am tired," he insists, dragging the blanket over his head.

Ragnar grins and rolls over so that he is partially on top of Athelstan. He tugs the blanket down and runs a hand over Athelstan's head, no longer so bare at the top. He hasn't shaved it again since the time Ragnar caught him at the waterside and the short hair is soft. Ragnar rather likes it.

"Not so much a priest anymore, though, are you?" Athelstan's mouth gapes and he stares up at Ragnar, still red.

"What do you mean?"

"I have not heard you pray to your god in days," Ragnar says. "And you have asked an answer of the gods here and your eyes glow with golden fire for me. Not things I imagine a priest would do."

Athelstan seems stunned, eyes wide as if he had not realized what he's been doing. Ragnar brushes his thumb across one reddened cheek and notes the shudder that accompanies it.

"I am tired," he announces, rolling away. "We will sleep now." He pulls Athelstan along with him, though, until the priest--his dragon--is draped along his side. Lagertha settles herself on his other side and he turns his head to press a kiss to her lips. Then he kisses Athelstan's forehead and smiles at the noise it produces. There is much they will have to teach their priest dragon, when all this is done.

****

There are many familiar faces in the hall when Ragnar walks in. Rollo is near the front, along with Leif and others. Familiar, friendly faces are spread out among the crowd and Ragnar makes note of each of them on his way to the front. Lagertha and Athelstan stop at the edge of the crowd, letting Ragnar continue on into the space before Haraldson.

Ragnar takes a deep breath. This is the day.

"So," the Earl says. "I have been thinking. And I have come to a decision." He pauses and looks around at the assembly.

"Ragnar Lothbrok has brought back treasure and slaves from his raids to the west, it is true. But he is the only one who knows the way, who can navigate his way to these lands of riches. None of you who would lead raids can do the same.

"So. My decision is this. Unless Ragnar Lothbrok will share this new way of navigating the seas with the rest of us, so that we might follow his example, then we will resume our raids to the east, where we can navigate with ease."

He looks at Ragnar directly. "Well, then, Ragnar Lothbrok. What do you have to say?"

"I say," he says slowly, glancing around at those assembled before returning his gaze to Haraldson. The disc and the sunstone are at the farm, safely hidden, and even those that had seen him use them would have a hard time making a set of their own, even should they find another sunstone. And he most certainly did not want their use to fall into the hands of a man such as Haraldson. But to doom his people to raiding a people already poor...

"I say I would challenge you, Haraldson, before Odin himself, for the title of Earl."

****

It's a formal challenge and no one touches Ragnar as they prepare for the fight. Lagertha brings him his weapons, hands him the warpaint and his leather tunic. Athelstan watches silently and behind him, Rollo, Leif and the others provide a living wall between Ragnar and Haraldson's men.

"You can do this," Lagertha says quietly when he is ready. Ragnar cups her cheek and leans in for a soft kiss.

"Aye," he says. "I can. And I have the gods' favor."

"May the gods bring you glory and victory," she says. "And do not break any of your own bones this time," she adds.

Ragnar grins at her. "I will do my best," he promises. Lagertha kisses him again, deeper this time, before letting him go.

"Kill him."

"I aim to."

He steps past her and pauses at Athelstan, reaching up to wrap his hand around the back of the dragon's neck. "You with me?" he asks, shaking Athelstan a bit. Athelstan smiles at him and wraps a hand around Ragnar's wrist.

"I'm with you," he says. "Where ever you go."

"Good," Ragnar says with a grin. "Will you give me a kiss for luck, as well?"

Athelstan flushes a dull red. "I don't--that is--I--" Ragnar laughs, interrupting Athelstan's stammer.

"I am teasing, priest," he says, squeezing Athelstan's neck before letting go and turning away. The other men are laughing at him and Lagertha is looking fond. It is good, to be surrounded by family and friends at this time.

"Wait, Ragnar--" Athelstan's hand on his shoulder is unexpected, as is the kiss, a bit on the forceful side and clearly inexperienced, but a kiss nonetheless. He brings a hand up to guide Athelstan into a gentler way, kisses him sweet and slow. Someone hoots. When they pull apart, Athelstan is bright red and breathing hard, his eyes dark. "For luck," he says.

"I shall have the luck of the gods," Ragnar tells him. "Stay with Lagertha, all right? You will know if I have need of you, but until then, stay safe."

Athelstan nods. "I will."

Ragnar nods and turns away again. No one stops him this time and the others trail after him as he goes to meet Haraldson.

****

It is close to midday and the sun is high.

To one side, Lagertha, Athelstan, Rollo and the rest of Ragnar's men are arrayed. On the other, Haraldson's men match them, man for man. They form a large circle with Ragnar on one side and Haraldson on the other, as prescribed by law.

The seer sits at the edge of the circle, staff in hand. He will oversee the challenge, declare the winner and proclaim any divine edict that may come. His attendant kneels beside him, face lifted to the sky as they wait for the moment of noon.

Ragnar glances at Haraldson, attired and armed much as he himself is, then searches out Lagertha and Athelstan. They are together, Lagertha leaning into the taller Athelstan. Both of them are solemn-faced and watching him. He inclines his head and touches his fingers to his lips. Lagertha's mouth twitches and Athelstan flushes.

"Prepare yourselves," the seer calls out. The murmuring of the crowd dies away and Ragnar's focus narrows to himself and Haraldson. He is barely aware of the seer's attendant nodding and the seer saying, "It is midday. Let the challenge of Ragnar Lothbrok to Earl Haraldson begin."

The thump of the seer's staff against the ground is muted, but Ragnar hears and feels it. He brings his shield and his ax up, lets his body settle into the stance he has known since he was a boy.

A flicker of movement makes it through the haze of his focus and for an instant, he sees it.

The raven settles on a pole that is nearly directly behind Lagertha and Athelstan and looks at Ragnar, crowing loudly before taking flight again.

He recalls the seer's words and grins.

****

Ragnar and Haraldson are well-matched. The youthful speed and agility of Ragnar are countered by Haraldson's knowledge and skill.

The fighting drags on and the sun has moved a fair distance before Ragnar manages to send Haraldson to the ground. They are both bloodied, covered in many cuts and small wounds. As Ragnar lifts his ax to deliver the final blow, he hears the call of a raven and grins.

Haraldson's eyes go wide. "Wait, have mercy--" His hand scrabble for his sword, fallen to the side when Ragnar had dealt that last blow.

"No, Haraldson," Ragnar says. "Meet your death with courage and perhaps you will feast tonight in Valhalla." And he lets his ax fall, severing Haraldson's head from his body.

Almost immediately, Haraldson's men rush forward and Ragnar defends himself from their blows, dodging and blocking as he can.

There is an unearthly shriek and the man attacking Ragnar falls, a blur of gold falling with him. Everyone around them stops and the stillness spreads, until everyone is looking at Athelstan, who is staring back with his fiery gold eyes, teeth and claws bared at Haraldson's men.

He's managed a further transformation, Ragnar notes. In addition to the scales, the claws and the eyes, he has a set of curved horns arcing back from his forehead. The effect is terrifying. He still looks glorious to Ragnar.

"Dragon," someone whispers.

"A bad omen," someone else says. The words are repeated, the news spreading. Haraldson's men step back from Ragnar slowly, leaving Athelstan and Ragnar in the middle of a widening circle. The seer pushes forward through the crowd until he is at the front again.

"Ahh, a dragon," he says, stretching a hand out towards Athelstan. "Surely an omen against greed and being overly ambitious."

"It is here for Ragnar!" someone shouts. Other voice agree, but the seer holds his hand up.

"Do not be so quick to decide what its purpose is," he says. "Watch."

With no one currently threatening Ragnar, Athelstan relaxes a bit. He straightens and looks to Ragnar.

Ragnar holds out a hand and Athelstan comes easily, stepping close enough for Ragnar to hold on to. The scales are hot under his palm, but not unbearably so. "My dragon," he murmurs. Athelstan smiles.

"My Lord," he says softly.

"See," the seer says. "The gods have sent a dragon to protect Ragnar Lothbrok. It does his bidding and deals out death and destruction upon his enemies."

Ragnar looks around at the gathered crowd. "I have killed Haraldson and now I lay claim to the title of Earl. Will any of you challenge me?"

Some of the men wore angered expressions, but none spoke up to challenge Ragnar's claim. Ragnar lifted his ax. "Then it is done. By our laws, I am Earl."

****

"Earl Lothbrok," Lagertha says from the doorway. "Do you have time for your lawful wife?"

Grinning, Ragnar turns from the table he's been bent over for a long while. "For you, I have all the time in the world," he says, holding out an arm. She sways closer and he wraps his hand around her hip. Her fingers trail over his face.

"You have been so busy," she says. "But surely you can spare some time from working. After all, there is a new bed that we have not had a chance to use properly."

She's smirking at him and Ragnar squeezes his hand. "That is quite possibly the best idea I've heard in days," he says. He stands and pulls Lagertha close, burying his face in her neck. "The two of us, all night... I will make you shout," he says, mouthing along her shoulder.

She laughs, pushing at his head. "You are forgetting something," she says. She pulls out of his hold and goes to the door, beckoning someone in. When she comes back, Athelstan follows her, hesitant and face already flushed lightly.

"If you're prefer--I can--" Ragnar steps over to him and raises a hand, cutting Athelstan off with a light touch to his lips.

"Shh, dragon," he says. "If you do not want this, say so, but do not doubt that you ware wanted."

Athelstan stares at him for a moment. "I do not want to not be here," he says finally, voice trembling but clear. Ragnar smiles and slides his hand around to cup Athelstan's face and tilt it up just enough.

"Good," he says, then kisses him. He keeps it slow and sweet, like before. No sense in scaring Athelstan away with anything rougher.

Lagertha's hands on his back are unexpected, but he relaxes into the touch, reaches to pull her around as he breaks from Athelstan. "Kiss him," he tells her. "He needs to learn, if we are to do this."

She smiles. "I know what I am doing, my love." She takes Athelstan's hands, pulls him closer to her. "Do not fear, dragon. Your god is far away, now."

"I have not feared this for some time," Athelstan admits. "Though, it is a strange feeling, to want your touch and his as well."

"Strange, perhaps," Lagertha says. "But good. Now, kiss me."

Athelstan bends to obey and Ragnar watches for a moment, admiring the way his dark curls compare with her fair hair. It is a pleasing sight, he decides.

"We can kiss and more on the bed," he reminds them. Lagertha pulls back to laugh at him.

"Yes, my lord," she teases, turning and pulling Athelstan after her. "Come, dragon, we are wanted elsewhere."

Ragnar follows quickly. The duties of Earl can wait this night. He has a beautiful shield-maiden and a handsome dragon to tend to for now.


End file.
